Slow Healing
by peacefulsands
Summary: Dean has been held captive in the dark. It takes time and care to help him recover. Sam is there with him and Castiel and Bobby will support all they can.


**Prompt** : Gen or Dean/Sam. Touch starvation/sensory deprivation. - After being held captive in the dark with no human contact, Dean needs more physical contact than usual.

Or

**Prompt** : Dean is taken for a few days Sam eventually finds him (slight Sam angst) Dean's a bit worse for wear and Sam has to get him out of the cage clean him up and generally nurse him back to health bonus if the cage is too small and Dean suffers with cramp that Sam has to massage to help!

* * *

**Disclaimer** : Nothing from Supernatural belongs to me. They all belong to E. Kripke and the CW.

**Rating** : PG-13

**Characters** : Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel

* * *

**Slow Healing**

It was taking too long, way too long to find him, to even know who and why before they could possibly stand a chance of finding out where. Sam had cursed Castiel for hours for the Enochian symbols carved into Dean's ribs that rendered Dean invisible to all angels, Castiel included. Castiel's weary response of "It seemed necessary, seemed to be for the best," had served only to anger Sam further. The younger Winchester dived for Castiel's throat, both hands gripping as tight as he could. Castiel stood placidly, prised Sam's hands away and said quietly, "You can't do that, Sam. I can't let you do that." Sam's eyes met the angel's and Sam could see the self-reproach in them that he hadn't got any answers for their current predicament anymore than Sam or Bobby had.

Then it came a single message from Dean's cell to Sam's. "We have your brother. If you want him back, we have demands." Sam slumped in a chair, clutching the cell as a single tear slipped from his cheek. Behind him Castiel looked at a loss as if unsure what to do. Bobby walked quietly over to clutch at the younger man's shoulder in support.

"What'd it say?" Bobby asked.

"Somebody's got him and they have demands but that's it." Sam's head hung in despair. "Who? Why?"

Bobby shrugged and said, "GPS the cell – you know it's turned on." Sam nodded grateful for the instructions, knowing his mind was too full of Dean to be thinking rationally. He rose and moved to the laptop. He turned the laptop on and did what was needed to track the cell. They'd made the calls to activate it when Dean first went missing in the hope of using it to find him. He typed a response into his cell, "What do I need to do?" and sent it.

There was nothing. No response to the message, nothing on the laptop to show where the cell phone was.

They were exhausted. None of them had been eating or sleeping properly since they'd found the Impala abandoned at the side of the road outside of town, endless searching for some clue, some missing piece of information that would lead them to Dean. Even Castiel looked a mess, rumpled, grubby and weary and when Sam looked in his eyes he could see more than just passing concern but a deep seated anxiety.

Eventually Bobby and Sam gave in and went to bed to rest. They'd stopped pretending that they were going to sleep, but gave into their bodies need for some sort of rest, settling in to toss restlessly until some degree of unconsciousness would take them for a while.

* * *

Castiel kept watch while the other men rested. He also kept his eyes on the laptop and the cell phone waiting, praying for a response, a clue. He was worried. Dean had been injured already when he'd been taken, in need of rest and recovery but wired and jumpy unable to come down from the fight they'd just had. He'd gone alone to the town in search of food and extra medical supplies because they were running low, leaving Sam and Bobby to collapse in an exhausted sleep.

Castiel had wanted to accompany him, wanted to talk to him alone but instead, at Dean's insistence, he'd remained behind on 'first watch' to keep Bobby and Sam safe. He couldn't forgive himself for letting Dean pressure him into that, for not being there when his true charge was taken.

By the time they found the Impala, the blood stains inside and on the ground beside it, Dean had been long gone with whoever had taken him and they had no idea why. There was a beep from the laptop, an indication of triangulation in process. Dean's cell had been turned back on and as the area indicated grew smaller and smaller, Sam's cell buzzed with the indication of an incoming message. Castiel looked again at the laptop screen to see the triangle finally narrowing in to become nothing more than a spot a few towns over before the map changed, zooming into the indicated area to show streets and other details.

He pondered Sam's cell phone for a moment, wondering over the etiquette of reading the message himself before waking Sam. The time had passed for rules of that nature he decided and opened and read the message. "We don't want your brother, but he was convenient. We want you, hellspawn. Come alone. Leave Singer." The message finished with a set of numbers. Castiel remembered Dean explaining to him that numbers in that fashion were co-ordinates. They could be used to locate position. He looked back at the laptop screen which now showed its own set of co-ordinates and an address. Not quite the same, he realized, but close enough.

He thought for a moment or two before saying aloud, "Sam, Bobby! Wake up!" Both men took mere moments to be awake, dragging hands across their faces in an attempt to gain the level of awareness that they needed.

With both men up and seated at the table, Castiel showed the information on the laptop and that on Sam's cell. "Still no indication of who it is though," Sam said. Bobby agreed, adding that he didn't know anyone based permanently in the area and so they got down to the details, arguing back and forth as to how they could do this, how they could come out with everyone alive.

hr

Dean flexed his toes and counted aloud. He shivered violently and lost count. He shifted his weight as if there were a less uncomfortable position he could sit in and his thoughts trailed away again. He strained to hear something, any indication of humanity, any clue that he hadn't just been put here to die.

His mind flittered away again and he remembered his mom, holding him close, resting his hand on her rounded belly telling him all about the little baby growing inside and how he was going to be a great big brother and protect the little baby and love it so much, just like she was going to do and Daddy was going to do and he wanted to grow up to be like his daddy, didn't he? He did. He still did, wanted more than anything to be as good a man as John Winchester.

He remembered that he'd wanted nothing more than to grow up and be like his dad, tall and strong, with a warm smile and arms that could lift him up and swing him round, tickle him till he squealed and hold him close until all the hurts and nightmares that he'd had at that tender age had gone.

He felt like crying, but his body had no energy for it, no spare moisture either. He was dehydrated and starving and he knew it or at least sometimes he did. The tapping started again. He didn't know what it was or what it meant other than it made it harder to keep track of his own thoughts. There didn't seem to be any pattern to it, any meaning to it. Sometimes it came from one place, sometimes from another, sometimes quiet, sometimes not, sometimes rhythmic, sometimes not and sometimes any combination of the possibilities. It infiltrated his thoughts, drowned out everything in the pitch dark confinement, made it feel like the walls were closing in on him. He panted as the noise grew louder, covered his ears only to feel the noise swell further until he could feel the vibrations wherever his body touched his surroundings.

He could feel his breath grow shorter, gasping pants as the noise tried to drown out every thought he'd ever had. The sound continued swelling louder and louder around him, pressing in on him, until he was clutching at his throat desperate for air before slumping unconscious. The sound switched off not long after but it would take time for Dean to regain consciousness and to know that.

* * *

Bobby traveled in a stolen car, unrecognizable to anyone who knew him. Sam took the Impala roaring out of town in the early hours. Castiel had gone straight there trying to locate Dean or at least to find out who was holding him, what they were walking into.

He had a couple of hours as head start before the others would arrive. He hunted trying to find some sign, some indication of where Dean could be. There was nothing. He'd found the property at the co-ordinates, but he could find nothing to show where they were holding Dean. He'd been able to call Sam with some details of what he'd be walking into at the location they'd specified and with his help they'd been able to make a plan of sorts.

* * *

Dean shivered uncontrollably. The water still dripped from above but at least the painful torrent had now ceased. He'd woken up to the freezing water coming from above. The deluge so forceful it had driven him to the side to lie in the thick slop of mud. The stink rising from the mud and water mix choked at his senses. His battered body hurt, it was cramped and muscles spasmed uncontrollably at his enforced confinement. He hadn't had room to stretch his legs out fully in . . . he didn't know how long he'd been here now. No way to tell, without light, without human contact.

His mind wandered again. He thought he could see his mom coming towards him in the dark. Had he had another nightmare? She was coming to comfort him, just like she used to. He could feel her hand softly ruffling his hair, her gentle voice by his ear, soothing words that made him think of sleep and safety. His stomach cramped, breaking the illusion. He felt his stomach twist, bile rising.

Moments later, he slumped back against the bare rock behind him wondering how much longer he would last. Hell beckoned again, he knew that. Cramped here in the dark and filth, his mind drifted through memories; Sammy who he'd failed again, Dad, Mom, Bobby, all grim-faced and disapproving.

He felt something on his leg, trying to pull it towards him and so he could brush whatever it was off, trying not to cry out the fear that sprang up in his mind. Crawling things eating him, tearing through his body bit by bit when he no longer had the energy left to try and survive. He whimpered. It wouldn't be long now. The crawling things would be able to eat him soon, he prayed he was dead first.

There was a noise. He braced himself for another deluge of water only to be hit by something gritty. Hard and stinging and biting into him. He pulled himself as small as he could, arms over his head to stop whatever it was biting into his face and praying that it would stop soon. The water would drain away eventually but this . . . he was being buried alive bit by bit. His breath shortened as the panic hit again. His arms and feet thrashed out colliding with the walls around him. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He tried to force himself up to a standing position, legs weak and wobbly as he held himself against the rock wall.

There was a part of him that didn't want to fight this anymore, that nagged at him to just sit back down and give the fuck up. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he murmured into the noise of gravel sliding down the rocks. "I'm sorry," he whimpered as he felt the strength go from his legs and he began to slide down the wall, finally slumping into a heap on the layer of gravel.

* * *

The fight had been brutal but brief. None of them willing to waste any time. They'd found the hunters, Castiel realizing that the leader had been possessed. They'd dispatched them all swiftly and located Dean ironically enough by the wards driving the angel away. Sam had broken the angel wards and the three of them had been able to uncover the old mine shaft. The smell had been awful as they'd opened it and Bobby and Sam had both turned away choking and gagging and hoping to God that it wasn't Dean's corpse they were smelling.

Castiel had leaned over, unable to see anything in the dark, deep shaft, but he'd paused long enough to just barely hear the whimper of pain that something had let out. He'd turned back to the supplies Bobby and Sam had brought with them, securing ropes and winches and stirring the other two men to action. He'd secured himself to the rope, pointing out that Sam was going to struggle to move in such tight confines and that Dean was far from a lightweight for Bobby to be carrying him out. He didn't add 'if it is Dean I heard' although the thought had occurred to him.

Bobby handed him a flashlight just before Sam began to lower him down the shaft. As his vision dimmed in the diminishing light, he flicked the flashlight on. He heard another whimper below him, waves of someone else's fear and pain hit him as he caught sight of the figure below.

Reaching the bottom he struggled to find room to put his feet without stepping on the broken figure. Fuck! How the hell was he going to get him out? He bent awkwardly, seeing enough to be sure it was Dean; battered, bloody, filthy, but Dean nonetheless. The young man was turned away, the whimpering a constant sussaration of desperate sound, despite the way he was curled as Castiel crouched down and laid a gentle hand on his head. "Dean, all will be well. Rest now." He pressed his will gently to the injured man's mind and felt as he stopped fighting and gave into exhaustion.

Castiel moved swiftly, knowing that his only hope was to get Dean out and then deal with his injuries. Trying to be careful now was going to serve no purpose other than prolonging the agonies. "Sam," he called up the shaft. "This isn't going to work. There's not enough room. The only way . . ." Quick agreement reached, Castiel untied the ropes around his body, feeling as Bobby pulled them up, knowing Sam had already left for the nearest town. He bent down to run a hand over Dean's head again, soothing his uneasy dreams.

Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang and he answered it long enough to say, "We're on our way," before hanging up and stuffing it back in his pocket. A shout to Bobby to confirm that they were leaving and he crouched down to awkwardly grasp at Dean's body and shift it into position before closing his eyes and willing himself and his precious burden . . .

* * *

He laid Dean gently on the bed, lifting the imposed unconsciousness as he stepped away to let Sam closer. The whimpering began again instantly as Dean curled tighter, burying his head beneath his arms. "Fuck!" Sam pretty much summed up what Castiel himself was thinking.

Instinct had Castiel turning out the lights and leaving just a small dim sidelight on the far side of the room on. "Dean," Sam's voice was gentle as he reached out to touch his brother. Castiel moved away into the bathroom, taking the bin with him to fill it with warm water and to fetch the first aid supplies.

Re-entering the bedroom, he heard Sam trying to calm Dean and accept his touch. "Dean, 's just me, Sam. I'm not going to hurt you." Dean was still curled tight and even as he flinched away from Sam's touch, he didn't move far. Castiel wasn't sure that he was even aware that he was no longer confined in the mine shaft, let alone that he was safe beside his brother.

He moved to Sam's side, handing over the water and clothes that he'd retrieved. "I –" he started, unsure what to say, knowing that he had done all he could to help.

"'s alright," Sam muttered. "I've got him." Castiel could see the tears welling in Sam's eyes at the state of his brother. There was a choked sound before Sam took a deep breath and then asked, "We'll need more supplies and food . . . something that he'll be able to keep down . . . Bobby will know. . . and more towels and sheets . . ." Sam's eyes closed for a moment, pained expression clear to see.

"I shall get the towels and supplies that I can from here first. Then when Bobby gets here, we shall go for the other things. Will you be alright?" Sam nodded biting his lip.

Castiel took a step away to watch as Sam dipped the first cloth into the warm water, wrung it out and began to wipe it gently across Dean's nearest shoulder and arm, watching as Dean pulled away again fearful.

* * *

Sam's nose twitched at the offensive odors surrounding the heap that was supposedly his brother. There was little to recognize. Dean's head was hidden away, burrowed beneath him and the only sounds that were escaping were ones of pain and fear. As he swiped the cloth across the nearest exposed part of his brother's body, the filth shifted enough for him to make out Castiel's handprint. Proof at least that this was Dean.

"Sssh, Dean, 's okay. Let me just clean you up a bit," he soothed. Seriously what he actually wanted to do was lift his brother up, dump him in the shower and scrub him clean but Sam knew he needed to catalogue his injuries first to be sure of not doing any more damage.

He worked steadily, getting up to change the water and get more cloths, all the while listening to Dean's responses. He was reassured by the fact that Dean seemed to have calmed slightly as he continued to wipe the cloth gently over him. The flinching had stilled, although he was still making quiet whimpers and he hadn't yet lifted his head.

Sam wondered whether he could convince him to get in the bath. Soaking and changing the water would make it easier to get him clean quickly and a darn sight more thoroughly than this. The physical state of his brother meant a shower was out of the question, unless Sam sat him in the bath and let the shower run over him as he washed him that way. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and said softly, "Dean? Dean, come on, dude. I'm gonna move you into the bathroom. Let's get this done properly, huh?" He slipped a hand under Dean's torso and started to raise him up, surprised when Dean tried to fight back, hands feebly pushing him away, legs ineffectually thrashing. It only took a moment or two before his energy was exhausted and Sam took advantage of that to haul him swiftly into the bathroom.

Dean let out a feeble cry at the florescent glare of light, scrunching his eyes closed and covering his head with his arms trying to bury himself away from all trace of light. Suddenly realizing what the problem was, Sam hit the light switch, letting the room sink into darkness, just the glimmer of the subdued light from the small frosted glass window illuminating the room.

Carefully Sam hoisted his brother over into the bathtub under the already running shower head before stripping off his own t-shirt. As he turned away to strip his jeans off so he could climb in alongside his brother to make the whole process easier, he heard a choked off cry and Dean scrabbling to get away from the stream of warm water falling on him.

Dean didn't have the strength to escape the tub and so by the time Sam had shucked his jeans and was climbing over the side of the tub, lifting the shower head off the wall so he could direct it with more care, Dean was sobbing silently between panted breaths. Sam was concerned by the shortness of his breath, worried that he was driving himself into hyperventilation.

He positioned the shower head to run at Dean's legs and feet and pulled his brother closer, murmuring reassurances that he was safe and okay now. With Dean's eyes still squeezed tightly shut, Sam wasn't sure how much he understood of where they were and what was happening to him. "Dean, we need to get you cleaned up. That's what we're doing, just cleaning up, okay? Nobody's going to hurt you." Sam reached for the soap and began to rub it on to a facecloth, which he then coasted gently along Dean's shins. Dean pulled away, almost climbing Sam in terror, muttering something about bugs.

"It's me, Dean," Sam said again. "Dean, can you just open your eyes for me? Just look and you'll see what's happening I promise." Time and time again he reassured until Dean's eyes cracked open a fraction. Sam saw as he winced at even the very dim light of the bathroom but just held on tighter as Sam swiped the cloth along his legs again. "Wanna help me here, bro?" Sam asked.

Dean reached out to help, but Sam could see how he barely had the energy to move and so he steadied Dean's hand under his own, pulling it up and along to clean the filth and grime away. He tried not to think too hard about how uncomfortable he felt being so intimate with his brother, but instead focussed on the practicality of needing to get Dean clean.

When the cloth was too filthy to be of any more use, Sam gently took it from Dean's hand, soaping up a fresh one before guiding Dean's hand over more of his body as the other hand held the shower head close enough to rinse away the grime. Eventually he'd got his brother's body clean, the only parts that remained were his hair and his face. He carefully wiped the mud away from Dean's face, revealing the pale bruised skin below. He ran his thumb over the patchy stubble that had grown and decided that for now he would leave it be. His brother was too edgy for him to think that trying to shave it for him was a good idea.

"Just your hair now, Dean and then we're done," he warned. He wasn't prepared for Dean's reaction as the water began to splash on his head and face as he tried to pull away, gasping for breath as if he were choking on the water. Sam dropped the shower, holding Dean close to him hoping he would calm and trying to work out how to do this without Dean panicking. Dean's breath continued uneven and short and his eyes were tight shut again.

Sam stroked a hand down his brother's arm, hoping to reassure him. A sudden knock on the bathroom door had him jerking upright and Dean clutching at him terrified. Bobby's voice came through the door, "You boys okay in there? You need any help, Sam?"

"I – I'm not sure," Sam finally admitted. "We're almost done but . . ." He sighed before he said, "I can't get his hair clean. He won't let the water near his face." He heard through the thin door the sound of a choked off gasp, heard Bobby ask Castiel what his problem was but the angel didn't reply or not that Sam could hear.

He heard Bobby move across the room then come back and knocking again ask if he could come in. Sam agreed and when Bobby opened the door and his hand moved towards the lightswitch, Sam called, "No! Not the light. It hurts his eyes . . . too bright."

Bobby nodded and moved to his side with a travel mug in his hand. "'s clean, figure we could use it. You hold him so he knows he's okay and I'll make sure the water doesn't hit his face. We can make it as slow as he needs."

"I don't know what the problem is. I mean . . ."

Bobby cut him off with a hand gesture. He'd seen the water pipe that had led into the shaft, newly laid. While they'd been out, Castiel had told him enough about what it must have been like stuck at the bottom of the shaft with no room to move, that anything could have been poured down on top of him. Yeah, it was no surprise that Dean didn't want anything near his face, amazing that he'd let Sam near him with water at all. "Just hold him, son. I'll do the rest."

It hadn't taken long to get Dean's hair clean. Sam was thankful that it was short. Bobby helped him lift Dean out of the bath. Dean was half asleep from the warmth and the way his muscles had relaxed under the gentle ministrations. Sam dried him and got him dressed in a pair of soft sweatpants and a t-shirt before leading him back into the bedroom. The bed he'd been on before had been stripped and remade with clean sheets and Castiel stood anxiously at the side of the room watching.

"Need to get some food in him before he sleeps, Sam," Bobby said gruffly. "Just a bit mind, but he ain't gonna get better until he's got something to give him a bit of energy."

As Sam lowered Dean to the bed, he realized Dean didn't even have the energy left to situate himself comfortably so he climbed onto the bed and with Bobby's help pulled Dean up to lean against his chest. Castiel brought him a glass with orange juice in it and a soft roll spread liberally with butter. Castiel answered the unspoken question, "The juice will be good for him, the roll soft, easy to swallow and there is soup. I have it heating now. It is chicken noodle. Apparently that is good for people who have been unwell."

Sam smiled, finding the angel's clearly newly acquired knowledge amusing. "This soup is easier on the stomach than some of the other flavors available. It is easy to digest and contains nutrients appropriate for people whose immune systems have been compromised by ill health. I believe that this would be suitable for this situation."

"I gotcha. Yeah, Dean always use to make me chicken noodle as a kid or chicken with stars," Sam said.

Castiel returned with a bowl of soup and a spoon. "I am not sure his hand is steady enough to manage this," the angel said, concern clear.

Dean's eyes were closed again and he seemed to be drowsing against Sam's chest. "Come on, Dean," Sam encouraged. "You've gotta have something to eat before you sleep, dude." Sam looked up Castiel and said, "You'll have to feed him. If I do it, it's as likely to end up down his front."

Dean's reaction to the first couple of spoonfuls made Sam wondered what else Dean had been subjected to while he'd been captive, but he soon relaxed as he seemed to recognize the taste of the soup and as Sam and Castiel spoke quietly while Bobby watched from the other side of the room.

A few minutes later, Bobby stood and left the room. The brief opening of the door and the light that had spilled into the room had Dean wincing and turning his head away, eyes tight closed again. Sam and Castiel gave up about half way down the bowl of soup and the roll as Dean was finding it harder and harder to focus long enough to chew and swallow. "Leave it there," Sam said, after Dean had almost choked on a mouthful.

Castiel had looked about to object, when Sam had continued, "He's had some but he's too tired to keep going. We should let him rest now and then he can eat again when he wakes up." Castiel nodded taking the food away to the kitchenette again. It was a matter of moments before Dean was asleep curled against Sam peacefully.

Sam dozed too, aware of his brother's proximity, eyes snapping open each time Dean shifted or moaned in his sleep. Bobby had returned while both Winchesters were sleeping, a pair of dark sunglasses held in one hand which he set down beside the bed. Castiel nodded, "That is a good idea. I think his eyes will be sensitive for a while."

"Yeah, guess so," Bobby agreed.

* * *

Bobby, Castiel and Sam all reacted to the sudden cry that Dean let out as he pulled out of his sleep and jack-knifed upright, hands reaching out for his leg. It took a moment before the problem was clear to the rest of them. "Cramp," Bobby said. "He's been cooped up in that pit for too long."

Sam shifted round until he could massage Dean's leg with sweeping strokes that started gentle and gradually grew firmer as he worked the muscle out until it relaxed and Dean seemed to be at ease again. Once the pain was released, it took no effort to get Dean to settle back on the bed, although he kept reaching for his brother.

Sam sighed as he moved alongside and Dean curled into him, casting one arm over Sam's body to keep him close. Sam's eyes stayed open as he watched Dean slip back into sleep. Once he was sure that Dean was asleep again, he started to lift Dean's arm away so that he could get up, but at the loss of body heat alongside, Dean began to whimper and so Sam settled back alongside, resigning himself to waiting until Dean woke up to move.

* * *

Over the next few days, Dean was different, not really like Sam had ever seen him before, not even when he came back from Hell. It was hard to be with him and even harder to be away. Bobby just told Sam to suck it up and give Dean time. Dean couldn't manage the light. Days later and he still had to wear the dark sunglasses if they were in anything more than the dimmest light and if they'd ventured outside than Dean almost invariably had a cap pulled down to shade further still, like some Hollywood star's attempt at travelling incognito. Sam was getting used to him standing in his shadow, turning away from the light, but he wondered how long it would be before Dean was able to face the light again.

Then there was the contact, he seemed to swing between two extremes. One minute he was craving contact, sitting too close in diners and walking so close he was almost in Sam's shoes to crawling into Sam's bed at night to get some rest. But if anyone brushed against him, caught his arm or nudged him unintentionally, he would leap away, jerking back as if scalded. "On his terms," Bobby had reminded him again and again, and both he and Castiel had taken the chance to 'help' him envisage what his brother had experienced in that pit. He understood and he didn't. How did his brother get through the torments of Hell and stumble so badly after this? It didn't make sense.

He had reached the point of being able to reason with Dean, leave him in the motel room while he went out. Dean clearly didn't like it but he didn't object either and would resign himself to waiting with Bobby or Castiel for his brother to return.

Castiel accompanied Sam on one such trip out. Sam took advantage of the opportunity to ask the angel why it was that Dean had returned from Hell so much better than he was now and Castiel had frowned as if giving the matter some thought. "I healed the physical injuries as we returned," Castiel began. "As a by-product some of the mental torment was taken as well. Not all by any means but enough that Dean could heal slowly."

"So now?" Sam asked.

"Now Dean has both physical and mental injuries to deal with. He needs time and reassurance to heal and be well again. My powers are not sufficient to help reliably with this anymore. It's also possible that this has brought back some of those memories of his time in Hell." Castiel thought again before adding, "He was strong to survive that confinement, I think." He looked across at Sam, eyes sincere, "There was no room for him to move, his feet were trapped under a layer of gravel when I pulled him out but even without that, he would only have been able to stand or sit. It was pitch dark, no light at all. He was covered in water and mud. I think water and the gravel was thrown down on him."

Sam considered how even now, a few days later and much improved, Dean didn't seem comfortable in the shower and would insist on Sam washing his hair for him over the sink. He tried to imagine being under an uncontrollable deluge of water in the dark, not knowing when or how much water would fall; trapped and unable to escape the torrent, the threat of eventual drowning a real possibility. He could see how that could make even a simple motel shower pretty daunting. He resolved to continue to be patient not to let himself be drawn into a 'You should be better than this by now'.

Castiel murmured, "There was no way out, Sam and I would imagine he knew it. No way out. He believed that he was there to die, no matter whether you came or not. There was no way for you to go down to him and get him back out again. The weaker he became, the more he would have known that was how he was going to die, alone in filth and degradation. If I had not been with you . . . the kindest thing you could have done would have been to kill him."

Sam shuddered at the thought.

* * *

When they got back, Dean was sat too close to Bobby watching TV but the older man seemed to have resigned himself to the position, miles of space on the far end of the couch and Dean's leg pressed in alongside his own. Dean was still, his eyes focussed on the TV, quiet, slight flicker of a smile ghosting across his features at the antics he was watching as Bobby read from a book.

"Hey Dean," Sam greeted, patting his brother gently on the shoulder, aware of the slight tilt of Dean's shoulder as he unconsciously followed the contact. "Bobby," he added as he took the empty space beside his brother and Dean shifted away from Bobby to lean more heavily on Sam. Sam slipped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him even closer. Dean's eyes met his anxiously and Sam said quietly, "Rest. You didn't get too much sleep last night and you still need it." Bobby stood up with a half-concealed smile and Sam encouraged Dean to bring his legs up and to settle more comfortably. He quickly fell asleep.

Sam looked down at his brother, silently promising that they would get through this, that he would be there to help drive away the memories of his time alone, his time spent waiting to die, promising that he would help Dean be whole again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Constructive feedback is appreciated. x_


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